


Celestica

by saber



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drama, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Mostly fluff though, Multi, Partying, Rating may go up, Underage Drinking, high school life in general honestly, let's not forget, marth!lucina
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 11:58:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5416079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saber/pseuds/saber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The-Girl-Severa-Had-Spent-The-Majority-Of-Her-Middle-School-Years-Staring-At was a fashion <i>disaster.</i> The orange mini-dress she wore clashed in the worst way possible with the blue of her hair, and Severa couldn't help but feel like it was as if she'd reverted back to middle school. </p><p>The teen shook the thought out of her head with emotion bordering between mild disgust and amusement; <i>No, oh gawds, this was definitely worse than middle school.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Celestica

**Author's Note:**

> Okay! Here we go. I had the urge to write lucisev (literally from out of nowhere) and I'm honestly surprised that there's not as many fics of them on here as I thought there were? So that obviously means that I have to provide you all with /another/ high school au, and I have to say the obligatory "Sorry" for adding another high school au to the archives like everyone else who writes them does
> 
> This chapter will have some middle school backstory, and starts picking up towards the end, so please give it a shot! It doesn't rely as much on dialogue as the ones to come will be, and I really tried to focus on the feel of Severa's memories for this first part. Alternating POV can be expected.
> 
> I'm also looking for an alpha/beta reader for the upcoming chapters! So if you're interested, please contact me. Updates will probably be at my own pace.

The first time Severa saw ‘Marth’, she was sitting in the back of her middle school homeroom, with thick cobalt bangs and sunglasses so big and dark she was surprised they were in dress code. Her navy hoodie had to be at least three sizes too big-- and, coupled with the cropped style of her hair-- left everything to the imagination. Including, at first, her gender.

The redhead almost wanted to stalk up to her and demand to know why she dressed like that, _maybe_ throw in some advice, since she was feeling generous. 

It didn’t take long to decide against the entire idea, and she instead took her assigned seat with strands of a shoulder-length pigtail around her index finger.

Severa's own hair was still suffering as the sacrifice from last summer’s act of rebellion against her mother-- Cordelia’s reaction had been worth it, but she would look like a  _total idiot_  giving  _anyone_  fashion advice.

At least, that was what she had convinced herself of.

But, was she overthinking things?

Maybe ‘Marth’ just wanted to make an impression. It was the first day of middle school, and everyone wanted to stand out; it was obvious that Marth wouldn't be an exception to the rule. She was a transfer student, and didn’t have the advantage of knowing anyone from elementary school–- Severa couldn’t blame her for attempting to own the spotlight. She’d probably be wearing something normal the next day.

Besides, it wasn’t as if Severa was attracted to her somewhat handsome appearance, wasn’t as if she was too shy to speak to her.

She just thought that there was no point in wasting her time working on a problem that would solve itself.

 

* * *

 

The majority of Severa’s middle school years passed without notable incident. She still joined Noire at the library during breaks, still rejected Inigo’s advances, continued to bring home Ds and Fs, and _still_ knew nothing about the mysterious girl who wore sunglasses as if they were a mask.

...

Not that she had any way of intercepting information– why would she want to, anyways? Marth always kept to herself; she didn’t talk to anyone unless approached, and snuck off to gods-know-where during lunchtime. There was no point in trying to track down someone as tense as that. 

It would be more trouble than it was worth.

 

* * *

 

What Severa  **did** eventually find out came from a pure coincidence.

It had been raining, and she had decided to be _'impractical_ ' enough to refuse a ride to school in favor of biking. She wanted to prove to her mother that she had no reason to rely on her, and the urge to do so only deepened the more Cordelia said otherwise.

And she had decided to start today.

 _Yes,_   _I **know** , Mother. I’m fucking stubborn, you don’t have to say it again, _ _gawds_ –-

It was the end of the day, and the rain had not let up. Frigid droplets hit the back of her neck when she didn’t run under awnings fast enough, and she couldn’t feel her toes. Her bike wasn’t too far away–-

 _I could beat the rush to the cages if I went through here, and it’s only five minutes to home if I go fast_ –-

She’s broken out of her thoughts when something blue catches the light.

Marth. Walking in the direction of the local high school, not seeming to care that her off-brand converse were drenched beyond saving and bleeding their neon dye.

 ...

That scene replays in her head many times over, as wet crimson hair whips against her face, as her legs burn with the physical exertion of a _ctually having to work_ to get to her destination. 

So, Marth walks to the high school every day.  _Great._  

Severa did nothing with this information. Because she wasn’t interested. 

 _And_  she had been caught straight in the middle of pedestrian-rush hour. Because of her.

 

_Great._

 

* * *

 

Marth wore a white dress and her hair down on graduation.

It was something she only knew because of her fortunate position during the closing ceremony– behind her, a few people to the left. She turned a blind eye to her mother, among one of many parents bawling their eyes out in the crowd, and instead chose to focus on the back of Marth’s head.

For once, the teen couldn’t complain about the view; Marth's dark hair served as an excellent distraction, and the principal’s eternal speech was starting to fade into the background. Her hair wasn’t as long as Severa’s, but it brushed against her cardigan-covered shoulder blades with more elegance than she had ever seen before.

The redhead would be lying if she said that she didn’t have the urge to strain every muscle in her arm to be able to reach over and touch it.

...

Noire was the one who brought her back to reality. 

“S-Severa, it’s over. Everyone behind is waiting for us–-” 

Her voice came to a stop as soon as Severa was made aware of her position, and Noire followed her closely as she walked off their row of bleachers with tentative steps. 

Most of her classmates were dispersing on the field, seeking out their parents for a few words of congratulations before they headed home together. Severa struggled to locate her mother in the sea of bodies, and Noire continued to tug at her sleeve, making it clear that she had no intention of letting go of her anytime soon.

As if no longer being able to contain herself, the blonde’s gentle pull turned into something with far more force, and Severa knew instantly that this was her cue to hold back what would have been her second outburst of the night. She wasn’t  _stupid_. She knew better than to resist her best friend when her mood flipped, and instead focused on getting her legs to keep up with the taller girl’s pace. 

They were going against the grain, and Severa couldn’t  _see_ –- 

Her vision was overtaken by the shadows of barren trees, and Severa's brown eyes scrambled to adjust themselves to the changed lighting. They narrowed in frustration as they met calm hazel, a burning  _what the hell_ on the tip of her tongue–-

“You’ve been staring an awful lot lately.”

She was cut off. Cut off by  _Noire_ , gawds–-

Noire, who looked like some sort of fucking goddess of wrath under the moonlight.

“ _What?_  Don’t be ridiculous. There’s no reason to get so caught up in something just because I’m not as high-strung as you are–-”

The blonde searched her face with eyes colder than what she was usually capable of, and Severa felt as if she had aged twelve years. It was clear that she had already found her answer, and her next words came out as if she was stating a fact.

“She’s on your mind, isn’t she? That transfer student.”

 

* * *

 

The majority of Severa’s summers and freshman year of high school passed without notable incident. She still ate lunch with Noire and Kjelle in the school's cafeteria, still rejected Brady's pleas to join orchestra with him, continued to bring home Ds and Fs, and  _still_  knew nothing about the mysterious girl who wore a golden headband in her hair like a diadem.

...

Not that she had any _reason_  to want to intercept information– why would she want to, anyways? Marth-- _No, Severa had heard that she had ditched that nickname and was going by 'Lucina' now_ \-- was no longer in her homeroom, and they no longer shared any classes; she spent the vast majority of her time with Gerome and Laurent, and snuck off to gods-know-where with them during lunchtime. There was no point in continuing to chase after someone who was no longer on the same road as she was.

Severa had tried to reason with herself. _Things change. It's a fact of life._

She couldn't help but hope that they would change again soon-- the way she wanted them to, this time.

 

* * *

 

The stress that finals had left behind seemed to be lost on all; that much was obvious from the way Cynthia’s house seemed to be both completely dark and part of some sort of Disney Land-esque electrical parade at the same time, from the way the deafening bass reverberated through her body before going down and coming back up again. 

It was the winter break of her sophomore year, now. The week before Christmas, and this was Cynthia’s present to the entire damn class.

Severa briefly wondered whether knocking or ringing the doorbell like a  _normal fucking person_ would have any effect or not, and pushed the front door open with the arm that wasn’t balancing two twelve packs of Bud Light. 

...

Thank Gods, it wasn’t locked. She could give her host a bit of not-really-deserved credit; the redhead couldn’t put locking the front door to a giant-ass party past her childhood friend, but then again, Cynthia wasn’t as dumb as she looked.

 

Most of the time.

The subject of Severa’s thoughts gave her about three seconds to soak up the hazy atmosphere until she  _literally skipped up to her_  in a Supergirl costume about ten times flashier than what it was based off of, and ‘greeted’ her with a drowned out scream of excitement and a suffocating hug. 

“C-Cynthia! Holy shit, fucking Naga, for the love of... could you do me a favor for once and–-” 

Severa was foolish; she almost found herself thinking something along the lines of  _‘Okay. Note taken. Words are completely damn useless for the rest of the night.’_ before Cynthia once again broke all expectations and yelled in her face with volume exceeding any she had ever had the chance to experience over the course of her life.

“Oh my  **gods** , SEVERA, I’m so happy that you came– wait, what am I saying?! Of course you came! It’s  _my_  party, after all, and everyone knows that no one would miss it even if they, like, DIED on the way here or something! Well, don’t you worry, you can thank me later, because this pega-pony princess has _tons_ more where this came from–” 

Severa’s gray-haired friend proceeded to take the cases from her hands, all but galloping in the direction of her kitchen before coming to a grinding halt. The reason for her stop became exceedingly clear as the track began to fade out, a temporary silence overcoming the house. The tempo quickened at an alarming pace, and the cases in Cynthia's hands hit the hardwood floor at her sides with a clattering _thump_.

 

_tell me baby, if it’s wrong_

_to let my hands do what they want_

_late at night I pretend we are_

_dance dance dancing in the dark  
_

 

The redhead resisted the urge to just blind herself on something,  _anything,_ to keep from having to witness Cynthia drop it lower than she had ever needed to witness. It wasn’t that she wasn’t good, because  _hell,_ she was, just…she needed to get the _fucking beer to the kitchen_  before she was both deafened by the saxophone  **and** trapped by the growing circle her friend's dancing had attracted. 

All at once drained of too much energy to actually bother with _picking up_ the beer, Severa grabbed the cases by their cardboard handles and narrowly avoided a collision with Owain, who struck a pose as he joined his best friend on her impromptu dance floor. She directed a string of curses to both Owain _and_ the rough material biting at her palms, and breathed out a sigh of relief when she found herself under the kitchen's fluorescent lighting.

It took awhile for her to realize, but it really was the perfect getaway; she was alone, because the rest were probably all wondering _how the hell_ _Cynthia and Owain were moving like that in the middle of the hallway._

The teen silently offered Naga a condescending prayer of gratitude--  the pair's diversion provided her with the perfect place to catch up with everyone else.

 

She needed to get wasted fast if she wanted to make this a party to remember. 

 

* * *

 

Two bottles of beer and a shot of whiskey later, Severa considered herself ready to break out of the kitchen's safe confines.

The alcohol brought several welcome changes-- Cynthia's questionable playlist no longer pounded at her head like a sledgehammer, and her blood felt thin and hot. She became hyperaware of her heartbeat, and each pulse felt stronger than the last-- the moisture and sweat in the air transformed from something disgusting crawling on her skin to something almost sauna-like, and there was a lightness in her steps that wasn't there before. 

It wasn't anything special, and she momentarily entertained the more-than-likely idea that every other student in the building was in the same physical and emotional state as her; but she felt _different,_ and she _wanted_ to feel different.

There was no way that anyone else could be processing her surroundings as intensely as she was, no way that anyone felt and was feeling and _taking in_ like her. 

 

Severa laughed. 

She laughed at Inigo's jokes. She danced until she couldn't feel her calves, and laughed at the thought of how much they would ache the next day. She lip-synced to every song she recognized, and did so in the middle of conversation-- but, more than anything else, she wanted to make it clear to everyone that this was  _her_ night. 

Because, more than anything else, the girl who Severa had spent the majority of her middle school years staring at was looking at  _her_.

Ordinarily, the redhead would never admit to doing such a thing.

But, maybe this time, it would be okay. Since she was feeling like  _this._

 ...

The-Girl-Severa-Had-Spent-The-Majority-Of-Her-Middle-School-Years-Staring-At was a fashion _disaster._ The orange mini-dress she wore clashed in the worst way possible with the blue of her hair, and Severa couldn't help but feel like it was as if she'd reverted back to middle school.

The teen shook the thought out of her head with emotion bordering between mild disgust and amusement; _No, oh gawds,_ _this is definitely worse than middle school._

 

_i'm not the kinda girl to get messed up with you, hello_

_it's alright, i'm getting dizzy, just enjoy the party_

_it's alright with me if you don't have that much to say, hey_

 

It only took a few seconds of house music and a set of lyrics for Severa to understand a fraction of Cynthia's emotion from earlier, because _**shit** , this was her song,_ and she'd be damned if she denied herself of the chance to fix Lucina's style _again_.

**Author's Note:**

> The songs used in this chapter are "In the Dark" by Dev and "Hello" by Martin Solveig and Dragonette...I really like 2010~ ish party music honestly
> 
> It's also easy for me to imagine Cynthia as a total party girl-- she must get it from her mother.
> 
> I'm aware that the writing does get a bit sparse towards the end; my goal is to capture the physical/emotional states of each character and the way they perceive things through the writing, but it's my first time trying this, so please let me know if it works or not! Did the pacing turn out okay? I'm also aware of some repitition of words and phrases-- it was my attempt at creating rhythm. Was I successful?
> 
> Anyways, thank you for reading this far.


End file.
